


Anything That You Desire

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fantasy, Humor, M/M, Romance, Thumbelina AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a lot of trouble in the world for a boy no bigger than your thumb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, as stories such as these often start, there was a young woman. She lived not so long ago, but long enough that stories such as her’s turn from fact to fiction, and from fiction to legend. She was a lonely woman who had lost her husband to war, leaving her alone in the world. She stayed a widow, out of love for her departed husband, but she forever longed for a child.

Then one day, quite by chance, a beggar woman appeared on her doorstep seeking a bit of food and companionship. The woman, lonely as she was, invited the beggar inside. She fed her, and sheltered her, and kept her company, and when the beggar woman went to leave, she took the woman’s hand and pressed into it a single seed.

“Plant this in a flower pot,” she told the woman, “and it will give you what you desire.”

The woman did as she was told. She tended to the seed, and the flower it sprouted, like any mother would dote on a child. She lavished it with love and affection, speaking and singing to it as much as she would a person. Then came the day when the flower was at it’s largest; the woman tucked her hand against the bud, amazed when it bloomed open at her touch.

But the most amazing thing of all was the tiny boy sleeping inside of the flower. He opened his eyes, blinked up at her, and smiled.

“Hello, mother.”

The mystery of where Blaine came from was quickly forgotten in the wake of his mother’s affection. It was an adjustment to her once simple life, of course. Suddenly she had a son, a son who rode around in the pocket of her skirts or clinging to the collar of her blouse. Perhaps it should be strange, but she loved him, as a mother should love a son.

But there is a lot of trouble in the world for a boy no bigger than your thumb. 

* * *

“What story should we read tonight?”

Blaine balances himself on his mother’s nose, hands tight around the frame of her glasses, and looks down at the large book of fairy tales she is opening in her lap.

“How about the one about the noble dog, who saved the king from the evil wizard?”

Cooper barks from his spot on the floor, but Blaine frowns.

“Once upon—”

“Mother?” Blaine says, and she halts. “Is it possible, I mean, if they exist, could you read me a story about people like me? Little people?”

His mother is silent for a moment, and then begins to turn the pages.

“As a matter of fact, my love, there is. Here.” She lifts her palm up as her head tilts forward, catching tiny Blaine before bringing him down to the book.

Blaine stares at the pictures, curious, and then looks up at his mother.

“What are these, mother?”

“These are faeries. See? They have wings.” She points at them, and Blaine presses his palm to the rainbow of colors in the picture.

“What are they doing?” Blaine asks in awe.

“Well, here the faerie prince is marrying a princess.”

He lays down on the page, bringing his face as close to the pictures as possible. They are little people, at least, they are smaller than the mushrooms painted on the pages. Blaine sometimes wonders if he could make a mushroom into a house. Maybe if it were fat enough. But mostly he looks at the faces of the faeries, how they are turned towards one another.

Blaine knows what marriage is, but—

“Are they in love?”

“Well, that’s normally what happens, dear, before you get married.”

His hand presses against the prince’s face.

“And they’ll live happily ever after?”

His mother looks down at him sadly, reaching down and brushing at his back with her finger.

“Yes, sweetheart, usually.”

“I suppose that works best when you’re both the same size, huh?”

His mother just nods, quiet as she watches him, unsure of what to say.

“That’s not  _fair_.” Blaine stands, stomping his foot against the book. It bounces a bit and he throws his arms out, regaining his balance. “I just… I must be the only little person in the whole world!” He looks up at his mother, waiting for her to say something on the contrary, to tell him that there’s hope. “I wish I weren’t. I wish I was big, mother, like you.”

“Oh no, Blaine. No. You are perfect exactly as you are. Don’t ever wish anything different.”

“But… But there’s no place in the world for little people like me.”

“Of course there is, Blaine. You will always have a home here.”

Blaine runs over to where his mother’s hand is resting on the book and hugs it.

“Mother, do you think there’s a prince out there for me somewhere?”

His mother shifts, turning her hand and picking him up. She gently touches her lips to the top of his hair and smiles.

“Of course, Blaine. Of course. Come on, it’s time for bed.”

She stands, picking up the book.

“Mother? Will you leave it open? I want to look at it while I fall asleep.”

“Are you sure? You’ll have to sleep by the window.”

He bobs his little head up and down.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be careful not to fall out, and Cooper will be in here with me.”

She seems to contemplate it for just a moment, hesitant, before propping the book open on the small table beside the window. She angles his chestnut-shell bed to face it, kisses Blaine’s head one last time before lowering her hand and letting him hop off.

“Goodnight, mother.”

“Goodnight, Blaine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She pauses, turning to the dog curled on the rug.

“Watch after him, Cooper.”

The dog lifts his head, barking, before he curls up to sleep once again.

Blaine watches as she walks away, blowing out the candles until the only light comes from the moon filtering in through the window. He sits on his bed, staring at the book, and sighing.

“I wonder if there really are such things as faeries.”

He walks towards the book, looking at the wings and then reaching behind himself to touch his back. He doesn’t have wings.

“I wonder what that makes me,” he muses. Still, Blaine imagines what it must be like to have wings—to fly the way the birds do. He thinks that maybe he’d like it. Then mother wouldn’t have to pick him up all the time.

Blaine looks at the pictures of the faerie prince, and closes his eyes. Maybe, for just right now, he can pretend. He smiles, opening his eyes and bowing to the prince.

“Why, kind prince, I did not expect to see you here,” he says, moving closer. “What bid you come to see me?” Blaine leans against the book, his body beside the painted picture of the prince. “To hear me sing? Why, you flatter me, surely. You are the prince, and I am no one.”

Blaine laughs, lightly, turning away and smiling.

“You are insistent, your majesty, and charming. How could I ever refuse you?”

He walks a few steps toward the window, looking up at it, and for a moment he can pretend that he does have an audience. That a prince has come to woo him.

“ _I know there’s someone, somewhere, someone, who’s sure to find me soon._ ” Blaine turns, spinning with his arms out, eyes closed as he pretends that there are hands in his, guiding him in a dance.

“ _After the rain goes there are rainbows, I’ll find my rainbow soon._ ” He stops then, eyes open, staring at the pages as if doing so will make the pictures lift off the paper and come to life.

“ _Soon it won’t be just pretend, soon a happy ending._ ”

Blaine rushes for the window, stopping just at the glass and peering out of it.

“ _Love, can you hear me? If you’re near me, sing your song, sure and strong and soon_.”

His voice fades, the room quiet again, and he turns with a sigh back to the emptiness that is his dance floor.  _But now, for now, it is just pretend_.

“Dear prince, you are a wonderful dancer.” He spins, smiling, and stopping when he presses his hand against the book. “But I suppose you have to leave me now. Will you come see me again?”

“If he won’t, I certainly will.”

Blaine turns, startled, to see someone standing within the open crack of the window. He backs into the book, making it wobble, before he heads for the closest hiding spot he can see—a teapot.

“Oh, no, wait! I’m sorry!”

_Who are you? Why are you here?_

Blaine slips inside of it, uncomfortable with the darkness but feeling better with something surrounding him on all sides.

“Please come out.” The voice echoes into the teapot, causing Blaine to look up at the face that’s appeared at the top. Not a large face, like his mother’s, but a small face. A face the size of his own, and a handsome one at that. But a stranger, nonetheless.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Blaine just sinks further into the seat provided by the spout, until he just crawls inside of it all together.

“Wait, where are you going?”

He moves carefully, carefully, inching his way out of the spout. If he can get far enough away, he can—but wait, no, he doesn’t want to scare this person away.

“There you are!”

Eeep! But Blaine does wish he’d stop scaring him like that!

“Please don’t run, I just… I heard you singing.”

Blaine turns around to look at the stranger, eyes widening when he finally sees what he’s looking at.

“You’re…”

“I’m…?”

Blaine gestures uselessly with his hands in the general direction of the book.

“I’m a book?” The stranger asks, and Blaine laughs suddenly, surprising himself.

“No, you’re… You’re a… You have wings!”

They flutter, as if they heard Blaine mention them, and he watches in wonderment. They aren’t rainbow like they are in the painted pictures, but shimmery and golden and insubstantial. He can almost imagine brushing his fingers completely through them.

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re… Why, you’re an honest to god faerie.” Blaine looks on in awe. His clothing is strange, rich blues and greens and tight in ways that Blaine has never  _seen_  before. He’s possibly the most beautiful creature Blaine has ever seen.

“I am.” The faerie smiles, amused, and steps closer to Blaine.

“I… I always thought I was the only one my size, and then… Here you are!” Blaine lets out a small laugh, hand curling in his hair in disbelief.

“Here I am!” The faerie agrees.

A sudden growling interrupts, and they turn to see Cooper’s face level on the table, teeth bared as he stares at the faerie… Who quickly draws a sword.  _Oh dear_.

“No, no, Cooper, he’s… He’s a fan!” Blaine shoots a desperate look at the confused faerie, who drops his defenses. “Hello, yes, hi, how are you,” Blaine greets overly loudly, wincing at the volume of his own voice. “I’m afraid that Cooper is very tired right now, and if you want to see him you will have to come back in the morning!”

The faerie stares at him, confused, and Blaine sends a pleading look his way.  _Just play along before he_ ** _eats_** _you_.

“O-of course, that’s completely understandable. He is just so… So courageous and great, I could not stay away?”

Blaine nods encouragingly. Cooper barks once, satisfied, before he lies down to sleep again. Blaine slumps against the book in relief.

“Sorry about that, he’s protective. The only way to appease him is to appeal to his ego.” Blaine rolls his eyes fondly, and then smiles a little self consciously. After all, he’s talking to a  _faerie_. And suddenly he has no idea what to say.

“What’s your name?” The faerie asks as he moves closer. Blaine notices the way he seems to skim the wood of the table; he hardly walks, skipping gracefully from point A to point B with a gentle flutter of his wings. It’s fascinating.

“My name is Blaine,” he admits, shyly.

“Kurt,” responds the faerie, and Blaine’s nose wrinkles slightly.

“That’s an interesting name,” he muses, but it’s only seconds before his eyes turn wide. “I-I mean, it’s  _perfect_.  _You’re_  perfect. Wait, I mean, well, you are—”

Kurt laughs, a tinkling sound, and Blaine buries his face in his hands. When he looks up again, Kurt is right there, so very close to him, and Blaine feels his face heat.

“You have a very entrancing voice, you know,” Kurt comments softly. He flits around Blaine in a quick circle, landing in front of him again. Blaine wants to ask to touch his wings, wonders if it would be like putting his hand in a sunbeam. But he doesn’t.

“I… Um, thank you.” He plays with the hem of his tunic, unused to being complimented by anyone but his  _mother_.

“Were you… Erm, practicing for anyone in particular?” Kurt looks at his nails, as if he isn’t particularly interested. But when Blaine doesn’t answer, he glances up. “Your song?” He encourages, his voice curious.

“Oh, no, I was… I was pretending, there isn’t… Um, anyone.” It feels stupid, now that he’s admitted it, but Kurt isn’t looking at him like he’s stupid. That’s nice to know, at least.

“Kurt?” He asks quietly, and Kurt flits around him again. It makes Blaine feel a little dizzy. “Would you tell me about the faerie court?” Blaine looks at the book again, at the faerie prince, and smiles softly.

“…what would you like to know?”

“Is there a prince?” Blaine asks with interest, and Kurt glances away for a moment. His cheeks are pink and it’s absolutely lovely.

“There is.”

“I’ll bet he’s very handsome,” Blaine sighs dreamily, and Kurt’s face turns a deeper shade of pink.

“Some might say so.”

“Courageous, too, and kind.”

“Brave for the ones he loves, and kind to those who deserve it,” Kurt responds. He moves closer to Blaine, until the golden light of Kurt’s wings reflects on both of their faces.

“Do you think he’d dance with me?” Blaine asks, quietly, glancing up at Kurt. They’re both little, but Kurt is just that much taller that Blaine has to glance up just slightly to meet his eyes. They’re very beautiful up close.

“Yes, I think he would.” Kurt smiles softly. “But why don’t you dance with me instead?” Kurt steps back and holds out his hand. Blaine stares at it, unsure, before setting his own within Kurt’s palm. Their fingers lace together immediately and Blaine’s eyes widen at the sensation. “What?” Kurt asks, confused.

“I’ve… This is new.” Blaine stares at their joined hands.

“You’ve never held hands?” Kurt asks, his voice sad, and Blaine shakes his head.

“I’m glad I get to hold hands with you, though.” Blaine smiles up at him, and Kurt smiles back.

“Come.” He tugs on Blaine’s hand, leading him towards the window.

“Wait, I thought we were dancing—”

“We are!” Kurt laughs.

“Then why are we going towards the window!” Blaine doesn’t like the window very much. He almost fell out of it one time, so he always makes sure to be extra careful. Kurt, however, doesn’t seem nearly so cautious. “Are you insane? I’ll fall!”

Kurt turns to him, smiling.

“I’ll never let you fall.” Kurt spins out onto the ledge, sparkles of light falling from his wings as he does so. Blaine tries to catch one, but it fades into the air as if it never existed in the first place. Kurt turns back towards Blaine, offers his hand again. “Trust me.”

For some reason, Blaine already does.

He puts his hand in Kurt’s, letting out a noise of surprise when Kurt pulls him close.

“Don’t let go,” he whispers, and then Blaine’s feet leave the ground.

“Oh my!” He clings tightly to Kurt.

“You won’t fall, I promise.” Kurt laughs a bit. “You don’t have to hold so tight. We’re dancing, remember?”

“But I’ll fall!”

“No, you won’t.” Kurt leans in pressing his face close beside Blaine’s so that he can whisper in his ear. “ _Let me be your wings_ ,” he sings softly, and a shiver courses through Blaine’s body at the sound.

And Kurt thought Blaine’s voice was entrancing.

“Okay,” he whispers back. He keeps one hand tightly locked with Kurt’s, but loosens the other one. Kurt smiles, spinning him out and Blaine feels a trill of fear spike up his spine. But he doesn’t fall, not even a little bit, and he stares at Kurt in amazement.

“ _Let me be your only love_.” Blaine blushes as Kurt spins him back in, ducking his eyes. Kurt is just singing so they have music to dance to. That’s all it is. Blaine’s back presses to Kurt’s chest and for once he has the chance to look around. Because he’s _flying_. “ _Let me take you far beyond the stars_.”

Blaine looks up, wonders if they really  _could_  fly to the stars. Right now, it feels like he could do anything.

“ _Let me be your wings. Let me lift you high above_.” Kurt turns him and they shoot up in the sky so fast that Blaine has to laugh with exhilaration. “ _Everything we’re dreaming of will soon be ours_.” Kurt dips him back and Blaine feels that moment of fear, like he’ll topple out of the sky, but Kurt holds him fast.

“ _Anything that you desire, anything at all_.”

Kurt pulls him close again, their foreheads nearly touching, and Blaine feels his breath catch. “ _Every day I’ll take you higher_ ,” Kurt sings softly, like a promise. “ _And I’ll never let you fall_.”

 _I know_ , Blaine thinks. Because he  _does_. Kurt smiles at him, spinning them apart again as they swoop lower towards the winding of a stream. Blaine stares at it in fear, shooting a look at Kurt.

“ _Let me be your wings._   _Leave behind the world you know_.”

Their feet touch the water, just barely, and Blaine is reminded of the way he saw Kurt walking around on the table not too long ago. They’re skittering across the water, making ripples as they dance.

“ _For another world of wondrous things_.”

 _Things like this_ , Blaine thinks. Flying, dancing on water, being serenaded by a beautiful boy. It’s certainly a world he’s intrigued by.

“ _We’ll see the universe, and dance on Saturn’s rings_.” They wind their way around an old stump, and Blaine let’s his fingers barely skim the bark. “ _Fly with me, and I will be your wings_.”

They still on top, landing, and Blaine feels a surge of disappointment.

“You look sad,” Kurt says, leaning down to catch Blaine’s eyes.

“I just… I’ve imagined what it’s been like to fly, but nothing I could have ever thought of would have compared to that.”

Kurt smiles at him, his wings fluttering out to their full size and glory.

“I wish I had wings,” Blaine sighs. He inches his fingers forward, hesitant, letting the tips skim Kurt’s wing. They’re warm, like he thought they’d be, but thin as paper and yet nothing like paper at all. They’re magnificent.

“Maybe one day you will.”

Blaine looks at Kurt in surprise, eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Really?”

Kurt smiles like he has a secret.

“You never know.”

Blaine certainly hopes so. He looks around at the silent night, the end of summer warm around them, and then looks to Kurt again.

“Are we done dancing?” He asks, hopeful that Kurt will pull him close again.

“Would you… Like to be?” Kurt flutters closer.

“No,” Blaine answers on a breath, and Kurt’s fingers curl through his again.

“Well then… Anything that you desire, anything at all.”

“Anything at all?”

Blaine smiles as Kurt tugs him to the edge of the stump. “Every day I’ll take you higher,” Kurt continues to whisper as Blaine moves closer. But he doesn’t notice that Kurt is off the edge, not until he feels his own feet leave the sturdy wood and slip from beneath him.

“Kurt!”

But it’s only a moment, until Kurt’s arms are secure around him and their bodies are close together.

“ _And I’ll never let you fall!_ ”

Blaine laughs, wants to swat at him, but is gripping Kurt’s arms so tightly he doesn’t dare let go again. But he feels himself relax, trust again; because Kurt caught him.

“ _You will be my wings_ ,” Blaine sings, and Kurt looks at him in surprise.

“ _Let me be your wings_.”

So Blaine nods, and they part again, spinning and twirling together beneath the glow of fireflies.

“ _You will be my only love_ ,” Blaine promises quietly as they come back together, his cheek pressed against Kurt’s.

“ _Get ready for another world of wondrous things_.” Kurt twirls him away again, and Blaine’s feet are touching something—a lily pad.

“ _Wondrous things are sure to happen_ ,” Blaine agrees through a beaming smile.

“ _We’ll see the universe_ ,” Kurt promises, bringing them closer together, and Blaine’s breath catches.

“ _And dance on Saturn’s rings?_ ” Blaine jokes back, until Kurt is shaking his head at him, still smiling.

“ _Heaven isn’t too far_.” Kurt brings his hand up to brush against Blaine’s cheek. Blaine leans into it.

“ _Heaven is where you are_ ,” he sings back, just as softly, and Kurt touches their foreheads together.

“Stay with me.”

It’s a whisper, and Blaine opens his eyes, sees Kurt looking at him, waiting.  _So this is what falling in love is like_.

Blaine leans in, just a bit, and presses his lips to Kurt’s cheek. It’s a brief kiss, a seal, a promise, and when they move apart, Kurt is staring at him in wonder. Blaine feels like his whole body is on fire, and he glances away shyly.

“ _And let me be your wings_.” He lifts them up into the sky again, away from the pond, the lily pad, and the audience they had both been unaware of.

* * *

“Does this night have to end?” Blaine asks as they find their way back to the window sill. He holds a string of flowers in his hands, his only souvenir, and staring at Kurt a little hopelessly.

“Well, it will be morning soon. You can’t expect me to stop the sun, Blaine,” Kurt teases.

“Didn’t you say anything my heart desires?” Blaine counters, and Kurt laughs.

“What have I gotten myself into?” He moves closer. Blaine feels his heart speed up, his breath catch, Kurt’s leaning in—

“KURT!”

He jerks away from Blaine, looking around with wide eyes.

“Hurry, hurry.” He pulls Blaine back inside the window, ducking behind the glass.

“What? Who is it?”

“KURT!”

Kurt winces.

“It’s my father, the king. Look, I have to go, but… I’ll be back in the morning?” Kurt looks at Blaine, a bit unsure, but Blaine just smiles.

“Of—wait, the king?” Blaine shoots up, glancing out the window when Kurt laughs, pulling him down. “The  _king of the faeries?!_  That would, that would make you—”

“The prince, yes,” Kurt admits, sheepishly, and Blaine slumps down on the sill.

 _The prince_. Blaine danced with the  _faerie prince_.

 _Oh wait until I tell mother_.

“Actually, would you… Meet him? Tomorrow?”

“ _Tomorrow?_ ” Blaine hisses, surprised. “You want me to meet the  _king_ , your  _father_ , _tomorrow?!_ ”

Kurt winces, but nods.

“Please say you will.”

And Blaine knows he will, knows he’d do anything for Kurt. Anything his heart desired.

“Of course I will,” he whispers, and Kurt smiles so large that Blaine vows to put it there as much as possible.

“KURT!”

He winces again.

“I should go—”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Blaine asks, fear flooding him.

“He will,” Kurt assures, gripping Blaine’s hand fiercely. “I’ll talk to him, tonight, and you can meet in the morning.”

“Will you meet my mother?” Blaine asks. Oh, for his  _mother_  to see a faerie, the faerie  _prince_  on top of it who Blaine is so, so,  _so_ —

“Of course.” Kurt cups Blaine’s face again, smiles.

“KURT!”

“I should go.”

He rushes out onto the windowsill, about to take flight, but Blaine hurries after him.

“Don’t forget!”  _Please don’t forget._

“Forget?” Kurt turns to him, pauses, and then moves close. Blaine takes his string of flowers and ties them about Kurt’s neck. “Forget-me-nots?” Kurt laughs slightly, and Blaine just shrugs. But then Kurt removes a ring from his finger—silver, with a stone as clear as Kurt’s eyes—and slips it onto Blaine’s. “I’ll never forget you,” he vows, leaning down and kissing the ring reverently.

“Never,” Blaine whispers back. Kurt looks at him again for a long moment, like he wants to—

“KURT!”

A woman’s voice has joined the calling and this time, when Kurt jumps back, it’s into the air.

“Goodnight, Blaine.”

He blows a kiss to Blaine, who lets his back thump against the window frame as Kurt flies and disappears into the night, fading as quickly as he’d come.

“Goodnight, dear prince.”


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine is surprised he sleeps at all that night. His entire heart is set on the morning, on _Kurt_ , but he is sure that his happy thoughts will only lead to the sweetest of dreams. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is the painted picture in the book of the faerie prince and his bride. Blaine smiles.

He is woken abruptly by a loud snap, and he’s immediately shuttered in darkness. Blaine sits up, his head knocking against something hard—someone has closed the lid of his bed!

“Cooper!” He yells, hitting on the insides of the nut. “Cooper, help me! Please!”

What’s going on? He shrieks as his bed moves, rocking unsteadily from side to side. He braces himself, afraid of tumbling, and continuing to yell.

“Cooper! Cooper!”

Blaine hears a bark and relief floods through him. Cooper will save him and everything will be okay. Kurt will come for him in the morning and everything will go as it should.

The nut jerks around and he rocks around, twisted in his bedding and screaming. Cooper is howling, barking like mad, and he  _will_  save Blaine. He will, he has to!

But the sounds of Cooper’s barks fade.

 _No_. 

“Let me out, you have to let me out!” He screams. “Kurt! Kurt!”

He’s thrown roughly to the side, pain throbbing up the back of his head and—

Blaine groans, blinking open his eyes. His head  _hurts_  and he feels dizzy and… Wait. It’s morning. He blinks against the light, sitting up and noticing that his bed is open. But… He’s not in his bedroom.

 _No_.

He looks around wildly, noticing rather quickly that he’s… On a boat. A very, very small boat.

“Hello?” He looks around, but he seems to be alone.

“You’re awake.”

Blaine nearly topples out of his bed in shock, whipping around to see… A frog. A frog in a  _blazer_.

“You’re… Wait! You kidnapped me!” Blaine stumbles backwards across the deck of the boat, but he runs into two other bodies. Two other frogs. Two other frogs  _also_  wearing blazers.

“Oh, kidnap is such a…  _Harsh_  word. I’d say it’s more like I  _rescued_  you. You were about to make a horrible mistake.” The frog walks towards him and it is  _weird_  to see a frog walking around on two feet. Blaine blinks, but it is still definitely bipedal.

“I was?” Blaine inches back, but the frogs behind him don’t move.

“Of course you were!” The frog presses a hand to his heart, speaking so earnestly that Blaine almost believes him.  _Almost_. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“…Blaine,” he offers, eyeing the frog strangely.

“ _Enchanté_ , Blaine. I… Am Sebastian, and these are my brothers, Thad and Trent. Together, we… Are the Warblers.” Sebastian does a flourish with his hands and Blaine tries not to focus on the webbing too much (it’s difficult).

“But… You’re frogs.”

“You’ve certainly got an observant one, Seb,” says one of the brothers. Trent or Thad, Blaine isn’t sure which is which.

“No, I just… Warblers are birds, aren’t they?”

“I told you, Sebastian! I told you. We’re  _frogs_ ,” says the other brother.

“Thad, there is a reason I am leader and you are not. We are the  _Warblers_. It is a much better stage name than the  _Frogs_.”

Blaine wonders if he could sneak away while they’re bickering, but remembers that he’s on a boat. Which definitely means they’re in water. Water isn’t scary when Kurt is holding him tightly, but it’s terrifying when there’s nothing keeping Blaine from drowning.

“It’s nice to have met you all, but I… Really must be going.” Blaine inches away, but the frogs’ attention snaps back to him.

“Already? But you just arrived!” Sebastian exclaims.

“Well, actually, you  _kidnapped_  me—”

“Details. The point being, Blaine—I can call you Blaine, right?”

“It  _is_  my name.”

“Well, Blaine.” Sebastian slings his arm around Blaine’s shoulders; if it wasn’t covered in the sleeve of a blazer, Blaine is sure he’d shrink away from it immediately. “I wanted to offer you an extraordinary opportunity, if you’d be willing to take it.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, but someone is expecting me back home, so if you would be so kind as to—”

“Ah yes, the faerie prince,” Sebastian says solemnly. Blaine stops in his resistance, looking at Sebastian in surprise.

“You know him?” Blaine asks, tentatively.

“Of course I know him! Trent, Thad, Blaine here thinks we don’t know who the  _prince_ is.” He looks at them meaningfully and they both burst into laughter at the same time. “The question, dear Blaine, is do  _you_  know the prince?”

“What? Of course I do!”

“Ah, yes, one night spinning around the skies.”

“H-how do you know about that?”

“Oh Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. Sit down. You look tired.” Sebastian forces them down onto a bench. “See, you might not know this “prince” of yours, but we do. He’s an arrogant, pig-headed faerie; he was flitting around here  _bragging_  about you.”

Blaine’s face lights up.

“He was?” He looks at Sebastian hopefully, and watches Sebastian’s face fall.

“Well, I mean, not  _really_ , but he… I mean, he’s a  _prince_ , Blaine. Imagine the shadow that you would live in for the rest of your life if you married him.”

“Married him?”

“That’s what that ring on your finger means, doesn’t it?” The one brother—Thad, Blaine thinks Sebastian called him—asks. Blaine looks down at the ring on his finger. It was the same finger his mother wore a ring on.

_Are Kurt and I getting married?_

“Blaine, Blaine.” Sebastian snaps him out of his thought process, and he looks up, eyes wide. “Listen to me. That life… That’s not a life you want. Faerie court? Blegh. How _boring_. No, someone like you… They deserve to shine. To have the creatures of the forest  _love_  him.”

“Love me?” Blaine looks around, imagining how far the forest must spread and, well, it’s probably  _huge_. “You really think they’d love me?”

“Blaine. Trust me. I know they’d love you.”

“But… I’m not a frog.”

“We’ll put you in a blazer, no one will know the difference!” Trent pipes up.

Well, he  _does_  like the blazer.

“Come on, Blaine. Come and perform with us, sing for the world, be a  _star_ ,” Sebastian whispers to him.

 _I can always sing with them and still marry Kurt_.

“Okay!”

“Great!” And Sebastian pushes him over the edge of the boat. Blaine lets out a squawk of distress before he lands on his back on a lily pad. “Now if you’ll wait here, we need to go and find an officiator.”

“A  _what?_ ”

“You’re going to marry our brother!” Trent cheers happily, and Blaine looks up at Sebastian with wide eyes.

“I’m… No, I never said that!”

“Wait here for me, Blaine. We won’t be long.”

The boat begins to move away and Blaine crawls to the edge of the lily pad.

“No, wait! You can’t just leave me here. Wait!” The boat keeps moving, though, disappearing in the tall grass. “Doesn’t anybody care what I  _think?!_ ”

A shadow flashes above him and he looks up, blinking against the sunlight until he sees a bird perched on a cat tail.

“Why so much racket, little bug?” The bird asks, and Blaine crosses his arms.

“I’m not a  _bug_ , I’m a… A…” Well, that’s a good question. “Blaine,” he humphs.

“I’ve never heard of a Blaine before,” the bird tweets. She flutters down until she lands on the lily pad, tilting her head in interest at him. “Why are you sitting all by yourself on a lily pad?”

“I… I was sleeping, and then… Then something happened, I was kidnapped, and when I woke up I was  _here_ , on this little boat with these frogs, and Sebastian said I have to marry him, but I don’t  _love_  Sebastian!” Blaine’s shoulders droop at the end of his rant and the bird continues to survey him.

“That is all  _quite_  dramatic. And you shouldn’t mix with the Warblers anyways. Those, those  _toads_  giving a bad name to birds everywhere. Why, I sing much more beautifully than all of them combined.” The bird whistles out a song as if to demonstrate, and then looks at Blaine expectantly.

He claps a few times.

“Yes, very beautiful.”

“I know,” the bird chirps as she preens. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be going—”

“Wait!” Blaine says desperately, standing quickly and feeling unsteady as the lily pad rocks in the water. “Please… Please don’t leave. People have been leaving me and I’ve been alone, and I don’t like being alone at all. I just… I just want to go  _home_.”

The bird looks at him and then tweets sadly.

“Oh, alright. I suppose I can help you get home. I am a  _nice_  bird, after all. We can sing along the way?” She hops closer to him.

“Of course. I love to sing,” he says with a smile, and the bird twitters excitedly.

“Perfect!” She swoops into the air and then under the water, and Blaine looks around wildly before the lily pad lurches and he falls to his knees again. She pops back out of the water and it’s then that Blaine realizes he’s floating away. Ha! See Sebastian find him  _now_.

“I’m Rachel, by the way,” the bird chirps as she flies just above him.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

She tweets in response.

“Blaine,” she begins after a few moments. “Why do you want to go home so badly? Not that I  _like_  the Warblers, but they would make you rich and famous. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I just… I want to go home, and I don’t  _want_  to marry a frog, I want to marry  _Kurt_ because I—”

“Kurt!” The bird tweets suddenly.

“Yes, Kurt, I—”

“The faerie prince?” Rachel asks in excitement. Blaine frowns in frustration.

“Yes—”

“Well, why didn’t you say so before! You’re the prince’s  _fiancé_ , of course you want to hurry home to him!”

 _I was trying, it’s not my fault you kept interrupting me_.

“Yes, now I just need to get to the shore and I’ll be home before I know it!” His mother did always praise him for his optimism.

“You mean if you survive the waterfall.”

Blaine looks up at Rachel.

“Come again?”

“The waterfall.” She gestures with her wing and Blaine looks and—

“You didn’t think to mention that earlier?!”

“You didn’t ask!” Rachel tweets back angrily.

“Well, don’t just fly there, help me!”

“Help! Help! Someone help!” Rachel tweets, and Blaine buries his face in his hands. How did he end up with the service of the most dramatic, least helpful bird in the forest?

“Help!” Blaine calls. “Someone please help!”

“Can you swim?”

“No, I can’t swim! I can’t even  _float_. Please someone help!”

Rachel finally flies down, hooking her talons into the lily pad and tugging and—she couldn’t have done this to just pull him to shore  _earlier?_  Still, it seems to be useless. The current is already too strong.

“Rachel, hurry!”

“I’m trying!” She squawks.

“Well try harder!”

Suddenly, he feels himself going in the opposite direction.

“Yes! Go Rachel, go, you can do it!”

“Blaine, it’s ripping!”

He looks at the lily pad in horror, noticing how it’s slowly tearing away near her feet.

“Hold on, hold on, I’ll—”

It tears, the rip running down the lily pad until it can’t stay afloat.

“Ra—” Blaine feels his body hit the water, gasps a gulp of air before his head sinks down. He bobs up again, coughing, but dips back down just as quickly. Something is tugging at his body, something else is pushing, and he’s being propelled in one direction. It must be the waterfall, he’s going to go over it, he’s going to die and he’ll never tell Kurt that he—

“Blaine!”

His body collides with solid ground and he coughs, violently, clinging to the dirt as much as he can. He sees Rachel’s claws and feels a rush of relief before he coughs out more water.

He’s alive.  _He’s alive_.

When he sits up, Blaine is surprised to see himself surrounded by creatures. There are all sorts of bugs and then—is that fish wearing  _glasses?_

“Blaine, are you okay?” Rachel hops over to him, her feathers tickling his arm where she touches him.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” He smiles at her. “I suppose I have all of you to thank for that.” There are quite a lot of them, after all. “Who… Who are you guys?”

“Oh, silly me,” Rachel tweets, puffing out her chest as if she’s about to make an important announcement. “Blaine, these are the jitterbugs!”

“The jitterbugs?” He looks around at them curiously. Yes, they are definitely bugs, but they’re wearing clothing—hats, aprons, and there’s even one wearing gloves! “Well, thank you all.” He smiles at them. One steps out of the masses, inching closer to him with large eyes.

“Are you really going to marry the faerie prince?” She asks, and Blaine feels himself blush. His hand goes to touch the ring around his finger— _was that an engagement? Was Kurt proposing to him?_  He smiles softly at the thought.

“I certainly would like to,” he admits quietly, and the girl jitterbug turns to another in victory. “But… I don’t know where he is. He was supposed to come and see me this morning, but…” Blaine bites his lip. “That’s why I have to get home… Besides, my mother must be terribly worried.”

Blaine has never been away from home, away from his mother, before. Not since Kurt took him dancing last night. But being with Kurt hadn’t been scary—it had been wonderful and magical and Blaine had never felt unsafe. But now everything is strange and dangerous looking.

He sighs, pulling his knees into his chest. He’s wet, and dirty, and he wants to go _home_.

“If only I could find my way home,” he muses out loud.

“We’ll help you get home, Blaine!” Says the bug from before, and Blaine turns to look at her. “I’m Tina.”

“T-thank you, Tina, but… I’m afraid I don’t know how to get home.” The world is such a _big_  place and who knows how far away Sebastian took him. “It’s probably impossible—”

“Impossible!” Rachel perks up. “I know a song about impossible things.” She tweets out a few different notes, preparing herself. “ _You’re sure to do impossible things if you follow—_ ”

“Can it, sparrow!” Says one of the bugs, and Blaine turns to see another one approaching him. “Blaine needs to get home, he doesn’t need you singing right now.”

Rachel flutters her wings in objection, then sinks to the ground to sulk.

“I’m Mercedes, and Tina is right. We’ll help you get home to your prince!”

“My, you’re all so very kind.” Tina and Mercedes take his hands and help him up, and he tries his best to shake the mud from his clothing.

“ _Blaine_ ,” Rachel tweets. “I thought I was helping you get home.” She stares at him sadly. “Isn’t there something I can do?”

He furrows his eyebrows, trying to think.

“Oh!” Rachel chirps suddenly. “I can find the prince!” She flaps her wings in excitement, hopping forward. “I can find the prince and bring him to  _you_.”

“But we don’t know where Kurt  _is_ ,” Blaine says, shaking his head.

“Well, that’s  _easy_. He’s in the Vale of the Faeries, of course.” Rachel tilts her head up proudly with her information.

“The what’s-it?”

“The Vale of the Faeries!”

“…okay, where is that?”

Rachel opens her beak to talk but then stops.

“I… Don’t know, but I will find it! I will find it for you and for Kurt and for true love!” She takes to the sky, flying in a circle in all of her excitement. “Follow your heart, Blaine! It will never lead you wrong!”

And with that, she’s gone.

“Sorry about her. She’s a little much to take.” Mercedes pats his arm.

“No… No, she saved me. You all saved me.” He smiles. “I suppose we should be going?” He offers his arm to Mercedes, who takes it.

“A gentleman. The prince made a good choice.”

Blaine blushes at her compliment, turning to see that Tina has been joined by another jitterbug.

“This is Mike. He’ll be coming with us.” Tina links her own arm with Mike’s and Blaine smiles, but it makes something at his heart tug.

 _Kurt_. Blaine can’t help but wonder what happened when he appeared at the window this morning.

 _Surely he’s looking for me. We have to find one another. We have to_.

“If we follow the stream,” Blaine says as they begin to walk, waving goodbye to the rest of the jitterbugs. “We should find my house!”

“We’ll need to keep an eye out for the Warblers, though. It won’t be long before they’re looking for you,” Tina points out, and Blaine frowns. He truly hopes he never sees those frogs again.

* * *

It feels like they’ve been walking forever. Some nights have passed, tucked beneath the shelter of mushrooms (Mike had informed him that no bugs actually live in mushrooms, much to Blaine’s disappointment) and warmed by the smallest of fires. It’s getting colder and colder, and Blaine’s clothes feel stiff from his near-drowning experience. But he doesn’t give up hope. Hope that he’ll see his home and mother again, and hope that Kurt will be there waiting.

He becomes fast friends with the three jitterbugs, holding their hands as he walks along the bank of the small stream. It’s probably not the fastest way home, but it is the surest—after all, Blaine remembers the tiny stream and bridge in their own yard.

“Do you think he’s looking for me?” Blaine asks as they walk, and Mercedes squeezes his hand.

“Of course he is, Blaine. The way you talk about  _him_ , he must have you on his mind just as much.”

“In fact, he’ll probably—”

Tina is cut short by the sudden arrival of…  _Something_ , something that has them scattering. Blaine looks around, terrified, wondering which direction they went, when that something takes his hand.

If that is not the  _biggest_  beetle he has  _ever_  seen.

“Why, hello.” He turns to Blaine and Blaine  _really_  should have run with the jitterbugs when he had the chance. “Jesse St. Beetle’s my name, and absolute perfection is… Well,  _me_ , but I certainly find others who come close to it.”

He moves closer and Blaine backs up until his back hits a mushroom.  _Stupid mushroom_.

“And aren’t you a sight to behold. Clearly not a beetle, although that  _is_  a shame. What a pretty little beetle you’d be.” His feeler brushes at Blaine’s face and he scrunches his nose, brushing it away.

“Well, I’m  _not_  a beetle, so if you could please—” But the beetle doesn’t move, just invades his space more. “Where did you even  _come_  from?”

“Why, up there, of course.” Okay, the beetle has a cane, that’s…  _Interesting_. He gestures upwards with it and Blaine inches out from beneath the mushroom to see a very large tree. “You see, strange not-beetle creature, I… Am a connoisseur of sweet nectars. A designer of rare threads!”

_That would explain the strange clothing…_

“And a judge of  _beautiful_  creatures, such as myself.” He smiles in a way that Blaine assumes should be charming. “And you, creature, are quite lovely. Unique, even. I’ve never seen another like you.”

“Yes, well, thank you.”  _But calling someone a creature is far from flattering_. “But I was on my way—”

“What’s your hurry, erm—I never  _did_  get your name.”

“It’s Blaine, but I really should be going, so if you’ll—”

“Aw, do you have to go so soon?” His feeler brushes against Blaine’s cheek again and he shrinks away.

“Please stop doing that.”  _Why won’t people just let me go home?_

“Well, would you prefer—” He grabs Blaine by the hand, pulling him close, “—something else?”

Blaine jerks himself away, frowning.

“Mr. Beetle, I hardly even  _know_  you.”

“Jesse, please, there’s no reasons for such… Formalities. But how can you expect me to stop?” Jesse inches closer to him. “You’re beautiful.”

Blaine flushes, looking down.  _Beautiful? Me? Really?_

“Gorgeous.” Jesse looks off, touching his hand to his shell—is it still a hand? Blaine has no idea. “Perfection in every possible way.”

Blaine has a feeling that Jesse isn’t talking about him anymore.

“That’s very kind of you—”

“And!” Jesse turns back to him, smiling. “You have a  _wonderful_  voice.”

“I do?” Blaine asks, astonished.

“Oh, certainly. I  _love_  the sound of it.”

“Real—”

“No, no, don’t talk! Sing for me.”

 _Sing?_  Blaine can hear Kurt’s voice in his head and it makes him smile, but  _no_. No, he won’t sing that for a beetle.

“ _I have an idea_ ,” Blaine sings suddenly. “ _Can you fly me up there?_ ” He gestures upwards towards the tree. Jesse makes a face.

“You want me to fly you up to that tree?  _Why?_ ”

“Well—”

“No, no,  _sing_.”

 _I don’t see why I have to sing everything and_ ** _you_** _get to talk like a normal person… Bug… Thing_.

“ _From up in the trees, I would have some perception. If I could see my house I’d know if I was going in the right direction_.”

Jesse seems to think it over.

“I don’t know. That’s a big favor. What do I get out of this little arrangement?”

Blaine searches his head, frantically; what could he possibly have that Jesse would want?

“ _I’ll sing!_ ” He sings suddenly. “ _I’ll sing for_ ** _you_** _._ ”

“No, no,” Jesse says, but he moves closer to Blaine. “I have a  _much_  better idea. You will perform with me at the Beetle Ball! Sing and dance for every beetle around!” He grabs Blaine around the waist and then they’re flying. It isn’t like flying with Kurt, not at all, and Blaine is immediately regretful that he asked the likes of Jesse St. Beetle.

“No, I changed my mind, take me back! Please! I don’t even look like a beetle!”

“Blaine!”

He looks down.

“Tina! Mercedes! Mike! Help!”

But his friends disappear as he’s swept into darkness.

* * *

Blaine isn’t quite sure what he’s wearing, or how it makes him look like a bug, but Jesse assures him that it  _does_.

“But why do I have to look like a beetle?” He asks, touching the fake wings with interest. Jesse was right about one thing; he is a designer of rare threads. He hopes he’ll get to keep them, as strange as they are. It would be better than walking home in his dirty clothing.

“Because it’s the  _Beetle_  ball. Surely you made that connection.” Jesse steps back to survey his work and nods. “Perfection, as usual. Are you ready?”

“Wait? Ready? For what?”

“The show, of course! It’s time to go on!”

“Wait—” What about practice? Rehearsals? Blaine doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be singing or how he’s supposed to be dancing.

“Just stand there, look pretty, and follow my lead!”

He doesn’t’ like the sound of that.

Blaine has to give it to the beetles, though. They know how to throw a party. The ballroom is probably one of the most glamorous places he’s ever seen, which isn’t saying much (he’s hardly seen anything past the walls surrounding his home). But even if Blaine did have something to compare it too, he’s sure it would still be impressive.

Also it’s very, very crowded. Very crowded with beetles of all sorts and sizes. He doesn’t know how Jesse plans to pull this off… Blaine really looks nothing like a beetle, but he can’t back out  _now_. After all, where would he go? He’s not even sure where Jesse  _took_  him.

He doesn’t sing—can’t keep up with the pace at which Jesse and his beetle friends are singing or dancing. So he does as he was told. Blaine stands there and looks pretty, smiling and trying to convey being a beetle. He’s sure it isn’t working very well, but the audience either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Showtime!” Jesse says to him suddenly. “Let’s wing it!”

“I… I can’t  _wing_  it. I don’t have real wings!” Oh how he wish he did. But Jesse grabs him by the hand and twirls him. Once. Twice. Three times. Blaine can feel himself get strangely lighter and it isn’t until the music stops and the entire ballroom gasps that he realizes why.

His entire costume is gone.

“What is it?” Someone in the audience calls.

“It’s disgusting!”

“It’s abnormal!”

“It’s hideous!”

Blaine shrinks back, eyes wide and fear shooting through him. Are they going to turn into an angry mob? Rush onstage in their rage of being tricked?

_What are they going to do to me?_

But they’re not angry, they aren’t mobbing. They’re… They’re pointing at him. And laughing. The performers on stage circle him and Blaine wishes he would sink right into the floor and disappear.

“ _Would you look at that, he ain’t got no wings!_ ”

Rub it in!

“ _Good gracious me, what are those things?_ ” A cane whacks against his thigh.

“ _He ain’t got no feelers!_ ”

The audience gasps, breaking out into murmurs. What’s so great about having feelers anyways? Jesse’s had been weird and invasive.

“ _He ain’t got no shell!_ ”

He doesn’t need a shell!

“ _He’s got scrawny legs and knobby knees—_ ” His legs are  _not_  scrawny! “ _—for all we know, the guy’s got fleas! He can’t even fly—_ ” No, he can’t, but Kurt makes him fly, Kurt  _is_  his wings, “ _—no that won’t do! So say goodbye, he’s not for you_.”

Goodbye, what?

Blaine turns around wildly until he sees Jesse again, shrugging sadly.

“ _I’m sorry dear, I guess you’re too… Ugly._ ”

Blaine blinks out at the audience.

“Ugly?” He whispers quietly.

“It’s alright,” Jesse whispers, pushing him off the stage. “You’ll get over me.”

 _I’m ugly?_  Blaine thinks.

* * *

He isn’t sure where he is. He’s high off the ground, has no idea how to get down, and Jesse seemed to forget all about their arrangement. Blaine was dressed up and humiliated for  _nothing_. On top of that, his friends are gone. He’s alone again.

“How will I ever find my way home now?”

There’s no way of knowing how much time passed in that wretched beetle cave, but it’s getting dark, and it’s cold, and Blaine has no idea where to go for shelter. Well, he knows he wants to get as far away from Jesse and those forsaken beetles as possible.

He makes his way along the rocky ledges, inching slowly and carefully. He’s tired and lonely and he wishes his mother were there. She always knows how to make him feel better. But she’s not, and Blaine is on his own. He comes around a curve and lets out a small gasp; dozens of dandelions spread out before him, sticky with dew. Or maybe rain. Blaine isn’t quite sure.

Blaine sinks down, tugging his knees in close and shivering. Maybe, maybe, if he closes his eyes and wishes, he’ll be home. Or, like the last time he made a wish, Kurt will find him again.

“Blaine?”

His eyes snap open in surprise and, sure enough, Rachel is perched before him.

“Oh, Rachel! I’ve never been more glad to see you.” He stands, swinging his arms around her neck and she stills in surprise. “Did you find Kurt?” He asks hopefully when he pulls back, and she shakes her head sadly.

“Not yet, but I will. I promise.” She looks at him for a long moment. “Blaine, are you okay?”

He shuffles back a step, crossing his arms over his body.

“I’m cold, and lonely, and… And I’m  _hungry_. And…” Blaine turns towards one of the dew-speckled dandelions, staring at his distorted reflection. “The beetle said I was _ugly_.”

“Wait. Jesse St. Beetle?”

“Yes,” Blaine sniffs. Rachel clacks her beak together.

“I should have eaten him when I had the chance.”

The comment takes Blaine off guard and he laughs, causing Rachel to chirp along in merriment.

“But Blaine, do you love Jesse?”

Blaine wrinkles his nose.

“No, of course not.”

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” Rachel shuffles back, settling against against the curve of the… Oh, it’s a tree trunk. How did Blaine get here? “Does Kurt think you’re ugly?”

Blaine looks down at the ring on his finger, touching it and smiling. He shakes his head.

“And you aren’t.”

He closes his eyes, remembers the way that Kurt  _looked_  at him, and that’s enough. That will always be enough.

“I’m going to go home,” he says, wistfully, but Rachel flaps her wings.

“It’s late, little one. Sleep here with me, and you can go home tomorrow.”

He curls up beside her, grateful for the warmth and for the friend.

“You will find Kurt, won’t you, Rachel?”

“Of course, Blaine. I promise.” She flaps her wing until he’s tucked beneath it. “But for now, sleep.”

He closes his eyes, placing his hopes on the rising sun, and smiles.

“Thank you, Rachel.”


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine never did find his jitterbug companions and the morning he woke up after his run in with Rachel, she was gone. And he was alone again. He realized, quickly, that the world is a big, big place for someone as small as him. Before Kurt, before Sebastian, before  _everything_ , Blaine had dreamed of a life of adventure; he wanted to see the world outside of the walls surrounding his house and find an adventure.

Now that he’s finally found one, all he wants to do is go home.

So he walks. He walks in what he hopes is the right direction, skittering into hiding at any sound. No more beetles, no more frogs; he just wants to go  _home_. It grows colder and colder and Blaine’s clothing becomes ragged and dirty from sleeping between gaps in rocks and whatever shelter he can find.

He’s lucky he hasn’t been eaten.

And then one day there’s snow and for the first time since everything started, Blaine wonders if he’ll never get home at all.

He walks. 

It’s getting dark when he passes a burrow in the side of a hill, much bigger than him and probably housing something that doesn’t want Blaine as company. He peeks inside, but it’s dark and Blaine has at least learned to keep his curiosity at bay.

It happens so quickly, his attention turned elsewhere, that he hasn’t realized he’s slipped on ice until he’s being dunked into freezing cold water. He gasps, paddling helplessly at the water and thankfully gripping an edge. His whole body is shaking violently. He’s wet now and it just makes the biting wind and snow that seeps up to his knees that much worse.

Blaine stares at the hole for a moment; it’s a perfectly cut square and it was there before he fell into it. Not a break in the ice or a patch that simply didn’t freeze; the ice beneath Blaine’s feet now is solid, sturdy, if a little slippery. But the wind rocks through him and he pushes the strange hole from his mind. After all, staring at it won’t give him any answers.

Darkness seems to fall faster now that it’s winter, but Blaine blames it on the clouds in the sky. It’s light and it’s dark but he hasn’t seen the sun in what feels like ages.

He’s exhausted and numb from the cold, hoping desperately that he’ll come across anything warm. He’ll settle for even a little protection from the elements.

That’s when Blaine sees the single boot, sitting in the snow. It’s old, ripped at the toe, and—a sock! Blaine can’t believe his luck. He stumbles towards it in excitement, sinking and tripping in the snow where it’s deeper than he thinks.

It’s not perfect, and it’s far from ideal, but it’s the first  _anything_  he’s had to wrap around himself since he left his bed all that time ago. His  _bed_. His  _home_. His  _mother_.

 _Kurt_.

He pulls himself into the boot, teeth chattering. The wind at least isn’t so bad and, when he pulls the old sock around him, he even feels a little warmer if not completely and utterly disgusting. He doesn’t sleep, not by choice; watches the white twilight turn into black night until he’s too cold and too tired to stay awake anymore.

So he doesn’t.

* * *

It’s  _warm_. Almost  _too_  warm but after the days outside in the snow Blaine is sure that the idea of  _too_   _warm_  doesn’t exist in him anymore. He’s covered in something soft and warm—not a sock, no, but not as comfy as his own bedding. But it’s so much better than anything else he’s had.

“Feeling better, curly?”

Blaine sits up, still topped with blankets, and the movement makes his head spin. He grips it, eyes closed, before throwing the blanket off of his head. Wherever he is, it’s very…  _Orange_. Not in the color so much as the lighting of everything.  _Fire_. That’s why he’s so warm.

“Where am I?” He asks quietly, noting that his bed is, in fact, a very intricate looking ladle. It would put his mother’s to shame.

“In my kitchen.”

Blaine’s head snaps to the side and there, right in front of him, is a mouse. A mouse in a dress. And here Blaine had thought he’d already seen everything  _possible_  on his journey.

“But… Who are you?”

The mouse shakes her head, handing Blaine a cup—the tiniest cup he’s ever seen—full of some sort of hot liquid.

“Ms. Santana Field Mouse. This is my place, snug and safe underground.” The mouse—Santana—takes her own cup and sips from it. Blaine watches in interest before her words hit him.

“Wait, I’m… I’m  _underground?_ ” He looks around and up in wonder. It doesn’t  _seem_  like he’s underground. He doesn’t see dirt or worms or roots or anything else he imagined underground would look like.

“Three feet under.” Santana lifts her chin, proud. “Dug most of it myself, but you know how field mice are. So willing to lend ladies a hand.”

Blaine would laugh, except he really doesn’t know  _anything_  about field mice.

So he’s underground. He’d always imagined underground to be dank and stale and unfriendly feeling, but Santana’s kitchen glows with personality. Blaine can’t imagine ever making something like this for himself. He can’t do  _anything_  for himself. But at least he’s out of the snow, away from the fear of pursuers and being eaten.

Field mice don’t eat tiny people, do they?

“You know, there’s something I just don’t get,” Santana says in confusion as she walks back over towards… Well, whatever she was doing before Blaine woke up. He watches her with interest, sipping his cup and grimacing slightly. It’s bitter, whatever it is, but it’s wonderfully warm; the heat seems to unfurl all the way down to Blaine’s toes.

“Did you really think you’d survive the winter in a  _boot?_  Not even a nicely made boot, but one that was falling apart. You do realize you were curled up in someone’s old sock, right?” She looks at him in amusement and Blaine flushes, looking down at the drink in his hands.

“I wasn’t—no, I… I’m just trying to get home.”  _I want to go home_.

“Well, you’ll have to suck it up. You’re not going to get anywhere in this weather. You’ll just have to stay here until the spring, Blainers.” Santana sips at her soup and Blaine frowns.

“Don’t call me tha—wait.” Blaine’s eyes widen in surprise and when he looks at Santana again, she’s grinning. “You know my name?”

“Obviously. I wasn’t going to bring some stranger in here. But that’s not all I know about you; a mouse has gotta keep herself informed.”

Blaine waits for her to continue, curious. But how does she know him? What else could she possibly know? She stirs her soup for awhile and then glances over at him and his nervous, impatient posture and laughs.

“Calm down; you’re making me nervous just looking at you. It’s not much, but it’s also the only reason anyone knows your name. It’s not like you’ve apparently done much aside from roll around in the dirt these past few weeks.”

Has it really been weeks?

“But I know you were engaged to that hoity-toity, I’ve-got-a-tree-up-my-ass faerie prince.”

“Kurt,” Blaine hisses, glaring. Santana shrugs.

“Yeah, whatever; the ex-fiancé to royalty. Aren’t you just special?”

“We weren’t—Kurt and I aren’t engaged, he never… I mean, I think he was going to, almost.” No, he was going to. Blaine touches the ring on his lefthand—it’s been the only thing keeping him going for so long now.

“Huh. That’s depressing then.” Santana is back to her soup, sipping it, but she doesn’t elaborate. It niggles at the back of his mind until he’s asking her, “What is?”

She’s silent for a few moments, but when she turns to look at him, her mouth is set in a grim line.

“He’s dead. Found stone cold and frozen in the snow.” The kitchen is silent. “You didn’t know?”

Blaine grips the ring on his hand so tightly it hurts. No.  _No_. He sees Kurt in his memory, not nearly as beautiful as he is but  _there_. Holding him close and singing in his ear, slipping a ring onto Blaine’s finger with a million silent promises.

Dead.

He’s sitting before he even realizes he’s lost his balance, collapsed backwards into his bed and holding his face to keep everything in. Agony tears at his throat and he wants to scream, wants to claw his own heart out. He curls up, the tears hot and never-ending as they fall from his eyes and he holds himself together.

“No, no, Kurt,  _no_.”

 _No, please, I love him, no_.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not true, you’re lying. It’s not true!” Blaine doesn’t even realize he’s yelling, voice breaking as it rips through him and rips him in half. Dead. Kurt is  _dead_.

“It’s not true, it’s not true,” Blaine repeats to himself, pulling his legs in. He sobs as quietly as he can, words failing him, but it doesn’t help at all. Every inch of him hurts. Every light he’s held on to, every hope that has kept him going, collapses and vanishes. Nothing.

There’s a touch to his back, soothing movements of a hand. Santana. It’s not what he needs— _I need Kurt to be_ ** _alive_** —but it’s better than nothing at all.

“I’m sorry, Blaine, if… If I knew you hadn’t known, I would have broken it to you a little differently.” Her voice is low, not mocking him, as she strokes his back. “But, you know, on the bright side, you’re young. Young and handsome—you’ll find someone else.”

Someone else?  _There is no one else_.

“He was  _perfect_ ,” Blaine says quietly, throat wrecked from crying, and he feels Santana force his chin up. She’s looking at him so hard, it scares him. He tries not to focus on the fact that she has whiskers or teeth so large they frighten him.

“No one is perfect, Blaine.” Santana lingers for a moment later before sweeping up and away from him. He sits there, staring into space.

Maybe, but Kurt was perfect for  _him_. Kurt was… Kurt was everything that Blaine had dreamed of and never thought to believe existed.

And he’s gone.

“Kurt was the only one…” A cloth hits him in the face and he looks up in surprise. Santana is staring him down, but at least her look is slightly gentle. Blaine tries not to be angry with her; she’s a stranger, but she took him in and saved his life. It’s the most kindness he’s been shown since the last time he saw Rachel.

“Put that on, it’s cold.”

Blaine stares at the navy blue cloth.

“Are you… Are you kicking me out?” Blaine asks, fear lacing his voice. A small piece of cloth—wool maybe? At least it’s warm—won’t protect him from snow.

“What? Are you kidding? I just saved you, I’m not about to send you out there to freeze to death. But we’re going to take some corn cakes over to Mr. Mole and the tunnels can be a bit nippy.”

Blaine brings the cloth up over his shoulders but deflates. Socialize? All Blaine wants to do is stay in this bed until spring.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d really rather not.”

Santana sets down the basket she’d been loading—where did she even  _get_  such a tiny little basket?—and crosses her arms.

“I just saved your life. Do you remember that? I brought you down here, gave you a bed, and I basically offered to shelter you for the winter. You can’t get off your ass to run an errand with me?”

Blaine reels back a bit in shock but then guilt drops heavy in his stomach. She’s right, after all. She’s done so much for him and at her first request he said no. So he stands, pulling the cloth tighter over him, and gives silence compliance. She grins at him, pleased, and offers him the basket to take (he does).

“You know, Blaine,” Santana says, slipping her arm through his. She’s smaller than him and it’s slightly awkward, but he doesn’t complain. “Word around the woodlands is that you’ve got quite a pair of pipes.”

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes.

“I heard you can sing.”

“Oh.” Blaine hasn’t sung in so long. “I don’t really feel like singing.”

“Look, I get that you’ve had a rough day, but don’t be so mopey. Mr. Mole is a very influential rodent, and he loves sweet things. I’m sure you could sing him one little song?”

Blaine is quickly realizing that there isn’t a way to say  _no_  to Santana.

The tunnels are dirt, which is what Blaine had expected, and just as drafty as Santana had warned. But as they walk the walls become more and more ornate, covered in wonderful and marvelous things. It’s amazing.

Blaine tries to distract himself that way. Tries to force all of his focus on the bob of the basket on his arm or the chill against his face. He tries, but the only thing that he can focus on at all is Kurt. Kurt is dead.

And he died looking for  _him_. 

The guilt this time is different. It’s warm and searing and it bleeds through his entire body. Because that must have been what happened; why else would Kurt be out in the freezing snow? Even faeries could get cold, Blaine was sure. Kurt was trying to find him and he died looking. And now Blaine will never see him again.

A few tears slip from his eyes but he doesn’t wipe them away. They deserve to fall.

Spiderwebs begin to encompass them on either sides and Blaine tries to suppress his fear; he’s not exactly fond of spiders, even if they can talk to him. That might make them even  _worse_ , actually. There are jewels and coins just littered around their feet; treasures that any regular sized person would be envious of. Yet here they are, outside of a door declaring the residence of a Mr. Sandy Mole.

Blaine tries not to be too amused at his unfortunate name—it would be horribly rude of him.

He’s not quite sure what he’s expecting when Santana leads him into a  _ridiculously ornate_  room (and Blaine had thought the Beetle Ballroom was ornate). He certainly isn’t expecting pastel floral cushions and china plates and what appears to be a very large porcelain doll.

But what he expects the least is Mr. Mole. Blaine has never seen a mole, but he has beady little eyes that do nothing for his sight (especially given the fact that he’s sniffing Santana almost as soon as they’re close enough). He’s dressed in just as many pastels as his home and Blaine wonders if they look so glaringly horrible together because he can’t see what he’s doing.

And he has an honest-to-god sweater tied around his chubby neck.

“Good afternoon, Sandy.”

He sniffs.

“Oh, Santana, how thoughtful of you to visit. Are those corn cakes I smell?” His nose turns in Blaine’s direction. “Oh, and who is this?”

The fact that Mr. Mole can smell him is incredibly unnerving. He juts the basket out in front of him, hoping it will distract the beady eyes and the sniffing.

“Oh, Sandy, this is my new friend, Blaine. He just came down from…” She leans in towards him, as if telling a secret, “Up there.” She gestures upwards despite the fact that Mr. Mole can’t see.

“Dearie me,” Mr. Mole gasps. “Such a dreadful place.” He’s sniffing at Blaine again and a pleased look breaks across his face as he encounters the corn cakes. “And isn’t it a pleasure to meet you, Blaine.”

It sort of looks like he’s talking more to the muffins than he is to Blaine.

He holds open his hand and it takes a moment for Blaine to realize that he wants Blaine to shake it. Which is difficult, considering Mr. Mole’s entire hand could cover Blaine’s arm. And that’s just what it does.

“It’s… Nice to meet you, too,” Blaine says, unsurely, pulling his arm back as soon as he’s able. He doesn’t like the idea of Mr. Mole accidentally crushing it.

“Come in, come in, make yourselves comfortable! Ah, but don’t touch anything!”

He’s so cheerful it only reminds Blaine of how happy he  _isn’t_.

“After all, these are my things.” He begins to lead them further inside and Santana drags Blaine along.

“Sandy, don’t forget the corn cakes I brought for you.” She shoves Blaine forward a little until Mr. Mole’s large hand is groping at the air for the basket. Blaine holds it away as far as possible and watches as the mole stuffs four of them into his mouth.

“Mm-mm-yummy!” He reaches into the basket again to take more and Blaine wishes he would just  _take_  the basket.

“Now,  _Blaine_.”

He doesn’t like the way Mr. Mole says his name; it rubs him in completely the wrong way.

“Why don’t you tell us a story about… Up There?” Mr. Mole stumbles into what appears to be a sitting area and Santana continues to herd Blaine after him. “I went up there once. I’m just  _too_  curious for my own good sometimes. Nearly blinded myself. Came back down here into my hole, where it’s  _dark_  and actually pleasant.”

Blaine wonders how a mole can go blind if he’s  _already blind_.

“You don’t like light?” Blaine asks with a bit of wonder.

“Don’t like? Hate is more like it, Blaine, dear.”

“Oh… I love it,” he says, feeling useless and out of place as he shrugs.

“Well, don’t go trying to change my mind. Moles and light do not go together very well, no siree, and that’s the end of that story.”

“Story!” Santana finally pipes in and Blaine can tell she’s trying to rectify the situation. She takes Mr. Mole’s ridiculously sized arm and leads him over to sit down. “Blaine, why don’t you tell us a story?”

“A… A story?”

“Oh, I do like stories!” Mr. Mole wiggles in his seat. “Make it something lovely. And _sad_.”

 _I could tell you the story about how I lost the love of my life. He was lovely and I’m so sad that breathing hurts_.

“Get up on the music box, dear, so I can see you better.”

Blaine doesn’t know how that’ll help, but he climbs on top of it, feeling strange lifted above them this way. After all, he’s never taller than anyone—although perhaps he’s finally learned differently since leaving home. Santana is looking at him expectantly, but her expression is shrewd. It makes him nervous.

“Um, alright, o-once upon a time there was… There was the sun!”

“Blaine, you know what? You should sing it.”

Blaine looks at her in surprise and sees Mr. Mole gasp.

“He  _sings?_  Bless my heart, he’s just  _darling_.”

Santana pats his arm and then looks back at Blaine.

“Go on,” she encourages through a forced smile. Blaine feels himself shrink a bit in the wake of it.

Blaine takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, thinks of the sun. Thinks of Kurt.

“ _Once there was the sun, bright and warm and wonderful_.” Blaine smiles, pressing his hands to his heart as if he can hold it there. “ _Shining like the love within my heart_.”

Love. All of his love, every last inch of it, for Kurt. Always for Kurt.

He doesn’t even realize he’s singing it to the tune of that same song,  _their_  song, until he’s started again.

“ _Now there’s no more sun. Winter has killed everything. And though it’s dark December… Forever, I’ll remember sun_.”

Blaine doesn’t know when he sat down, but he’s sitting on the edge of the jewelry box, feels himself close to tears.

 _Forever, Kurt. I’ll remember you forever_.

“Winter has killed everything…” Blaine finishes quietly. His fingers find the ring again, brushing over the stone the same color as Kurt’s eyes. “Even the sun.”

“That was an… Interesting story choice, Blaine,” Santana says, hands clasped together and eyes narrowed into slits. She  _asked_  for a story; it’s not his fault if the subject matter wasn’t on her approved list.

“Horrible thing, the sun,” Mr. Mole says with distaste and Blaine’s heart clenches painfully. “But since you were so wonderfully kind in sharing a story, I have a story to tell.” He begins walking in another direction without another word and then Santana is heaving him off the jewelry box and towing him after.

“Nice story,” she hisses quietly, and he frowns.

“Maybe next time you should be more specific.” He pulls his arm from her grasp, straightening the cloth on his shoulders as they follow. “He liked it,” Blaine says in his defense, and Santana raises her nose into the air.

“Lucky for you.”

Field mice really shouldn’t be so threatening.

“I was out for my morning stroll, well, this morning of course! I have to stay limber, after all.” Mr. Mole speaks as they walk, the glamorous rooms turning back into dank tunnels full of cobwebs. Blaine even spots a wall that has bugs pinned to it that makes his skin crawl. “And I just found the most  _peculiar_  thing in one of my tunnels. You’ll never guess!” He seems so overjoyed by the oddity but neither Santana nor Blaine make any attempts to guess. “It was a dead bird!”

This seems to surprise Santana, who let’s out a curious, “no!” but it just makes Blaine feel sad. Poor bird, dead and still being gawked at.

“I did indeed. Now the question is, of course, how a dead bird even managed to get into one of my tunnels.  _Très_  bizarre.” Mr. Mole shakes his head back and forth. “I’ll just say I’m glad that  _I’m_  not a bird. Annoying! They just hop around, twit-twit-twittering about. They’re just uncivilized, is what they are. I mean, have you seen their homes? Yuck!”

The room they enter is much colder than the tunnels and Blaine realizes it’s from a gap at the top. He wants to snort in amusement—Mr. Mole really couldn’t figure out how a bird got in here? 

Santana must see the bird first; she gasps. Blaine looks and then is immediately covering his mouth and rushing past both of them.

 _Rachel_.

Santana and Mr. Mole are talking behind him, commenting on Rachel or… Or something. It’s not important to him at the moment. He runs his hands over Rachel’s feathers and feels the grief well up in him again.

“Two people who are important to me are dead… And it’s all my fault,” he whispers. He let’s his head fall against Rachel’s chest, hugging her tightly. She’s… She’s still warm, but not very much. And… Wait.

“I hear your heart,” he says, eyes widening in surprise, and he draws back, looking at Rachel in surprise. “You’re… You’re not dead.” Blaine closes his eyes in relief.

“Blaine!”

He looks over his shoulder to see Santana waiting impatiently for him. He looks back at Rachel, unwrapping the cloth from around his shoulders and laying it across as much of her as he can.

“I’ll come back tonight, okay?”

“Blaine!”

He winces, sparing one last look at his friend before hurrying back to join Santana and Mr. Mole.

* * *

The instant they’re back in Santana’s hole, Blaine is burying himself back in blankets. He doesn’t want to eat or talk or move. He’ll wait until Santana goes to sleep and then he’ll go and see to Rachel. And then he’ll sleep through the rest of the winter, like a bear.

“You know, Sandy is very cultured. He’s good at conversation, educated, highly thought of, and the richest rodent for miles around. And hey, he can’t see! I’ve always seen that as a bonus. You don’t have to put in any effort.”

Blaine lifts his face from the blankets and stares at her dully.

“Wonderful for you, I hope you are both very happy together,” he murmurs, letting his head fall back against the fabric. He wishes he could sleep  _now_.

“What? Oh, no Blaine. He’s not my perfect match.” Santana settles down next to Blaine on the bed. “He’s  _yours_.”

Blaine looks up at her in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it.” Her paw presses a little to firmly on his back. “You’re recently single, you don’t have a penny to your name or a home. Really, it’s like  _charity_. Marrying Mr. Mole would—”

“ _Marry_  him?” Blaine sits up this time, looking at her incredulously. “How could I marry him? I don’t  _love_  him.”

Santana sneers at the word and bats it away with her paw.

“Love isn’t  _real_ , Blaine. Love is something they make up in storybooks. It’s like  _magic_.”

Blaine wants to point out the fact that he was born in a  _flower_  and there are  _faeries_ and that she’s a  _talking field mouse_. But he doesn’t.

“Love can’t build you a home. It certainly can’t provide for you. You can’t eat or drink love, or wear it like a blanket. What’s so great about love? It’s  _useless_.”

No. It’s not useless. Love is… Love is  _everything_. Love is that light inside of his heart whenever he thinks of his mother, of his home, of Cooper… Of Kurt. It’s what makes Blaine feel alive. But he has no arguments, because Santana is mostly right. Love can’t do any of those things.

“But I can’t just—”

“Blaine. You need to understand the reality of your situation.” Santana sidles up next to him and drapes her arm around his shoulder. “You’re poor. You’re homeless. You don’t have any friends and you have nowhere to go at the end of the winter because I certainly did not sign up for a permanent roommate—a mouse likes her space. You say you want to go home, but do you even  _know_  where home is?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But what? You’ll wander around until you find it? Go hungry or be eaten yourself? This is  _security_ , Blaine. A future where you know you’ll be safe and cared for. Isn’t that what you want, deep down inside?”

“Well, of course, but—”

“But where else are you going to find it? Mr. Mole won’t ask much of you. He can’t see! You’ll be free to do what you want and he’ll clothe and feed and house you. There isn’t a deal as good as this one, Blaine. Not anywhere in the world.”

He’s silent and she pats his shoulder.

“Think about it, but don’t take too long. Mr. Mole is a very eligible bachelor and he won’t wait around forever.”

Santana slinks away to what must be her bedroom, leaving Blaine in his ladle bed with more worries on his mind than he’s ever had before.

* * *

It’s snowing and freezing when Blaine makes it back to the tunnel where Rachel is that night. He has his blanket—or, Santana’s, that he’s currently using for bedding—wrapped around his shoulders but it still does little to keep him from shivering. Rachel is still in the same spot, still lying there with the piece of wool draped over her. Blaine shuffles over and settles next to her, needing a friend right at that moment more than ever.

He sits there in silence beside her, eventually resting against her and sighing.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” he whispers. “I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much trouble. You were looking for Kurt, weren’t you? When you fell in here? Looking for him because you told me you would…” It’s been so long since he’s seen her. Where has she been? What has she been doing? Has it all been for Blaine?

“I… I really believed for a long time that things would work out, you know? I would find my way home and Kurt would be there and… I’d get my happily ever after. But there just… They don’t  _exist_ , Rachel. They’re impossible, and we can’t…  _I_  can’t do impossible things.” He couldn’t even stay and wait for Kurt to come back for him in the morning. The one thing he wanted more than anything in the entire world and he failed.

“Santana says I should marry the mole… I don’t love him. I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone again, but… But what else would I do? What else  _can_  I do? He could… He could take care of me. He really could, Rachel…” He falls silent again, closing his eyes.

No friends. No family. No Kurt. He’ll never see his home again, Blaine is certain of it, and Santana’s right. What other options does he have?

“I guess… I guess I will. I’ll marry Mr. Mole.”

“That’s not funny, Blaine.”

He sits up, surprised, turning to see Rachel struggle to open her eyes and move around.

“Rachel!” He smiles—when was the last time he really smiled?—and throws his arm around Rachel’s neck.

“Your’e supposed to marry the prince, Blaine,” Rachel says.

“Rachel, oh, you’re awake, I thought you.” He squeezes her tighter and she gasps, batting at him with one of her wings.

“Careful, careful. If you thought I was dead, maybe you shouldn’t be hugging me so hard.”

Blaine moves back, covering his smile with his hands.

“Sorry.” He is sorry, but there’s also no way he would have  _not_  hugged her. “How did you even get down here?” He asks, petting at the feathers on her head and she shifts, one of her wings flopping to the side.

“A thorn in my wing. I was… I was  _fine_ , but the wind picked up and.” She sighs, dejected, and Blaine moves towards it.

“I think I can get it out,” he says, looking at it and back at her. “It might hurt.”

“Not more than it already does, I assure you.”

Blaine nods, bracing his feet against the ground and positioning his hands on the thorn. He counts silently in his head, sees Rachel’s eyes closed and braced for pain, and he pulls it out. It doesn’t snag or resist—it pulls cleanly from her feathers and his shoulders slump in relief. Finally, he’s good enough for something.

Rachel sighs with relief, flexing her sing and hopping to her feet much sooner than she should be.

“Rachel, hold on—you need to rest!”

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine. It will heal.”

“You almost died!” Blaine nearly shouts, but remembers where he is and winces at the noise he’s making.

“No I didn’t, you’re being dramatic. More dramatic than me, even.” She pats at him affectionately and then flaps her wings a few times.

“Where are you going?” He asks, desperately. He doesn’t want her to leave. She’s all he has now.

“Blaine, have you forgotten? I’m finding the Vale of the Faeries for you.” She says it so simply, so sweetly, as if everything is just as it was so long ago. But it’s not anymore. Everything is absolutely different. “Besides, I promised you a prince.”

Blaine’s heart feels like it shatters again, which is impressive considering how broken it already is.

“Rachel…” Blaine’s voice comes out strangled, but she doesn’t seem to be listening.

“You’ll be here, right? I can find you here. I will be right back, Blaine, right back. And then I will take you to Kurt.”

“Rachel, Kurt is—”

“I’m sure he’s looking for you, Blaine, I’m  _sure_.”

“Rachel, you have to understand, Kurt’s not—”

“And you will have your happily ever after, I know it! When you follow your heart—”

“Rachel, stop it!” Blaine sobs, slamming his hands over his ears, but she’s not listening. “Stop!”

“—nothing is impossible!” She flaps her wings, hovering in the world. “I’ll be back soon, Blaine. I promise.” And then she’s gone, leaving Blaine there in the cold winter’s night with his broken heart.

“…Kurt’s dead, Rachel. You can’t find him.” His voice breaks and he falls back to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

He stays like that for a long time. Sometimes he cries, the tears practically freezing on his cheeks it’s so cold. But other times he’s silent and he just thinks. Rachel has left him now, too, and even if she had stayed it would have only caused Blaine more pain.

Blaine never thought he’d live a life where he’d have to settle. But life doesn’t always work out the way it does in storybooks.

* * *

It’s almost instantaneous. Blaine makes his decision and the wedding is scheduled so quickly it makes his head spin. One day, that’s all he has, and he hardly has that much. Santana has him pinned into fabric as she works, making a hundred arrangements at once and not speaking to Blaine at all.

He knows it’s the right decision, the  _realistic_  decision, but that doesn’t stop the aching sadness that seems to be in his very blood. Blaine resigns himself to the fact that this is just how he’ll always feel. Forever.

There’s no one Blaine knows at his own wedding. Every single face is strange to him, with the exception of Santana, who is sitting smugly somewhere in the front row. His suit, at least, isn’t too bad. It’s white, but not real white. The dusty kind that’s more grey than anything else. The worst part is his hair, slicked straight down to his scalp so that it practically doesn’t exist.

The wedding march starts; it’s slow and dreary. Nothing like the light, happy music his mother used to hum when she’d read about weddings in his storybooks. But maybe that’s why; maybe only happy wedding music was used for storybooks.

He can’t even look forward, hand curled around something that definitely isn’t a flower. He doesn’t look at it and he doesn’t look up, can’t bear to see exactly what he’s walking into. Blaine’s never felt this… Empty before. He used to feel so full of everything—life, hope,  _love_. But it’s all gone now.

The officiater begins speaking before Blaine’s even made it halfway down the aisle.

“Mr. Mole. Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

The words grate on Blaine’s ears and he tries not to think about them, or hear them. If he could close his eyes and walk, he would, so instead he lets his mind wander. He thinks of Kurt. He thinks of Kurt’s eyes and the way his lips quirked when he smiled and how shocked he’d looked when Blaine had kissed his cheek.

He can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care.

“I do.”

The way he felt in Kurt’s arms, the strength of his hands and how they seemed to glide through the air like they were weightless. Blaine had felt like in that moment he could do anything, be anyone, as long as Kurt was there beside him.

He stops walking; he’s reached the end.

“And do you, Blaine, take this mole to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Blaine touches the ring on his finger—Kurt’s ring—and this time he does close his eyes. He sees the wonder in Kurt’s eyes as Blaine slips the flowers around his neck— _“Forget-me-nots?”_  Kurt had laughed—and remembers feeling the ring around his finger for the first time, the warmth and brush of Kurt’s lips as he kissed it where it rested against Blaine’s finger.

 _“I’ll never forget you.”_  A promise.

“Never,” Blaine sighs back, but then he realizes he’s said it out loud. His eyes open and the whatever-it-is is looking at him in confusion.

“What was that? Speak up?”

Blaine grips the stem of his not-flower tightly.

“Never,” he says, more clearly and with a newfound determination. “I can’t marry Mr. Mole.” The assembly gasps and Blaine drops the flower, beginning to move away. “I don’t love him!”

“Blaine!” Santana shouts indignantly from somewhere among the crowd of people, but he ignores her.

“Well that’s a relief.”

Blaine turns around in surprise and sees Sebastian leaning casually near the entrance. “After all, you’re my fiancé.”

The crowd gasps again.

“I am not! How did you even  _find_  me?” Blaine stalks away from the alter and towards the door, trying to dodge around Sebastian.

“Woah, not so fast. I believe you owe me a marriage.”

“I owe you  _nothing_ , you  _kidnapper_. Now move! I’m going home!” He aims a sharp kick at Sebastian’s leg and he yelps in surprise, giving Blaine the opportunity to push past. There’s a commotion behind him but he doesn’t look back and before he knows it, he’s running.

“Blaine, honey, baby!”

 _Where are they all_ **_coming_ ** _from?_

“Get  _away_  from me, you bug!”

Jesse holds tight to the jacket around Blaine’s shoulders and he slips out of it, stumbling as he breaks into a run again.

“Blaine!”

They’re  _chasing_  him. 

“Why does  _everyone_  want to marry me?” He hisses, taking a chance and dodging down a tunnel he’s never seen before. One of these has to lead to a way out. It  _has_  to. He has to stop, just for a moment, catching his breath, when a glint catches his eye. A large pile of coins is arrayed and… An exit!

There’s commotion behind him again and he scrambles as fast as he can, slipping on the coins and banging his knees against the metal. They’re close, but at least Sebastian and Jesse aren’t there. He’d really rather not think about where they could be, though. He pauses at the top, knowing he’ll never get away if he doesn’t stop them. Santana will surely grab him with her tiny paws and keep him underground forever.

There’s a key stuck behind a jewel bigger than  _he_  is near the top and he shakes it, loosening the jewel and the coins until they’re sliding down—an avalanche of riches that has the pursuing mob scattering.

He’s safe, once he’s outside, and he’s never been so  _happy_  to see snow. The skin of his face feels warm and he can see his shadow and—

“The sun!” Blaine gasps, happily. He spins around and feels hope flicker in him again. So many, many things have gone wrong. But the sun is back and Blaine thinks that maybe, maybe, things will get better. A shadow joins his and he starts, turning, and letting out a breath of relief as Rachel flutters into view.

“Rachel! Rachel, you’ll never believe—”

“I did it!” She chirps, proud of herself. “I found the Vale of the Faeries.”

Blaine stares at her for a second and sighs, closing his eyes. He doesn’t need this, not now.

“Rachel…”

“I know, I know, I sound crazy, but it’s true. I asked  _everyone_ , Blaine. I almost got eaten by a  _fox_. But it’s the real deal.” She’s so pleased she’s preening, wings fluttering as she waits for… Something.

“That’s… Great, Rachel, but—”

“No, no, I can tell you don’t believe me, so I can do you one better. Come on! Hop on my back!” She turns and stares over at him impatiently. He shouldn’t, but he also knows that Rachel risked her life for this. He can go, he can humor her, and then he’ll finally go home.

“Hold on,” she says and they’re off. It’s a different kind of flying and it’s terrifying. Rachel’s his friend but she doesn’t make Blaine feel safe. He could fall and Rachel would never catch him in time. He squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe going wasn’t the best idea.

They fly for a long time and Blaine takes the opportunity to rake his fingers through his hair, already becoming disheveled from the wind. He tries so many times to tell Rachel to stop, to turn him around, to take him  _home_ , but he doesn’t. He can’t even tell her that he nearly made the mistake of marrying a mole who wore garish sweaters and had a penchant for pastels. There are just some things he just never plans on sharing.

When they land, it looks like nothing special. A dead tree and… A weed patch.

“We’re here,” she trills in excitement and Blaine lets any expectation he has, any at all, drop.

“This… Is the Vale of the Faeries?” It isn’t what he was expecting. Shouldn’t there be palaces and flowers and rainbows and, well,  _faeries?_  “Rachel, this just looks like a bunch of ordinary weeds.”

He slides off of her back and balances precariously on the branch.

“Trust me, it  _is_. You just need to sing!”

He looks at her with no amusement in his eyes.

“Sing? Really? Why don’t you sing, since you sing so beautifully.”

Her feathers ruffle with the compliment and she shakes her head no.

“No, no, it has to be you. Come on. Please? For me?”

Blaine closes his eyes, hugging his arms tight around himself.

“ _You will be my wings_.” His voice almost cracks on the first line, but he pushes forward. “ _You will be my only love_.” He knows he’s not singing as well as he could, probably because all he wants to do is break down and cry. His voice quiets slightly and he touches his ring. “ _You will take me far beyond the stars_.”

Rachel chirps in excitement over… Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He stops.

“Rachel, please… This is silly. Can’t you please just take me home? Speaking of which, you could have put me on your back this whole time? Seriously?”

“Just…” She’s flustered, her wings fluttering. “Sing!”

“No!” 

She flies around him a few times.

“Let me be your wings,” she says and it hurts him, so badly, even to hear the words spoken. “Like that? Please, please keep singing.”

He sighs, resigned.

“ _You will lift me high above_.” He smiles sadly, staring at his ring as if it will somehow work magic. As if it will bring Kurt back. “ _Everything we’re dreaming of will soon be ours_.”

Except that it never, ever will be.

“ _Anything that we desire, anything at all_.” 

_Be here, be here; anything I desire, Kurt, remember?_

“ _Everyday you’ll take me higher—_ ” His voice catches and he presses his hand to his mouth, closing his eyes.

“Rachel, I can’t. This… This isn’t the Vale of the Faeries. And no matter how much I sing, Kurt is never—”

“ _And I’ll never let you fall!_ ”

The voice rings so clear and true in his ears that Blaine doesn’t believe it at first. He turns in astonishment, but there he is.

“Kurt.” The name falls from his lips in a whisper and then he’s scrambling over the branch, slipping in the melting snow (when had it started melting?) until Kurt is there, catching him by the arms.

“Careful. I just found you. Don’t make me lose you again.”

Blaine starts crying, clinging to Kurt as tightly as he can, feeling the comforting pressure of hands against his back.

“You’re alive, I thought—”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m alive, I’m here, I’ve finally found you.” Kurt pulls away and wipes the tears from Blaine’s eyes. Blaine smiles, closing his eyes as Kurt cups his cheek. “I have a question for you,” he murmurs softly, leaning forward until their noses touch. Blaine opens his eyes, the warmth in Kurt’s flooding through him and repairing every broken part of him.

“Anything,” Blaine whispers and Kurt smiles a bit nervously.

“Marry me?”

Blaine chokes out a laugh, closes his eyes.

“Of course. Of course I will. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

Kurt’s laughing now, too, the sound giddy, and he feels the touch of Kurt’s breath—subtle, questioning—before their lips touch. Blaine’s knees feel like they’ve gone weak and he surges into it, arms wrapping tightly around Kurt’s neck. He’s never been kissed before, but Blaine is sure that no kiss in the world would be more amazing than this one.

When they pull apart, Kurt’s cheeks are flushed so prettily that Blaine starts to lean in again but Kurt laughs, smiling.

“Wait,” he says, and Blaine frowns. “Oh, don’t worry, that’s not the end of that, but I have to show you something.” He steps back a little and looks down at Blaine.  _Ugh_ , he’d forgotten his suit, he hadn’t—

His clothing is red. Red and white and a deep navy blue and certainly not what he was wearing before. If anything, it resembles the regal nature of Kurt’s clothing. He stares at Kurt in surprise but Kurt just smiles sweetly.

“Look over your shoulder,” Kurt urges, and Blaine does, the breath falling from him completely.

Wings.

He has wings.

Kurt is right there when Blaine turns around again, hands circling around Blaine’s hips.

“I told you you’d have wings someday,” Kurt says before pressing a kiss to Blaine’s cheek.

“You knew?” Blaine asks, dumbly, staring at Kurt with wide eyes.

“I was certainly hoping.”

Blaine does surge forward again, kissing Kurt and forgetting everything around them—Rachel, who is crying somewhere around them, Tina, Mike, and Mercedes, who are clapping and celebrating, and the entire population of faeries that’s suddenly below them. None of it matters, not at that moment.

“Is this when we live happily ever after?” Blaine asks, eyes wide with hope, and Kurt kisses him softly—a promise.

“Oh, much longer.”


End file.
